Daddy's Little Girl
by Dreadedfemale
Summary: Sam gets a surprise visit from an old "friend" in the middle of the night.History repeats itself.Set in the near future.Rated for possible language. Warning!: Character death.1/26/12 edited for spelling, grammer and flow.Last chapters in the works.
1. Guess who's coming to dinner

**A/N: **First chapter fic ever. Be kind! Also, be warned there is a character death. This was originally meant to be a much darker more intense story but I found that I just couldn't write that story. This _is_ what it is. I'm writing it as it comes to me. I have a vague outline but much of it is seat of the pants. Thanks for stopping by and happy reading!

Also I own nothing save this computer I am writing at but if I did….

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

_Looking at my own reflection _

_When suddenly it changes_

_Violently it changes_

_Oh no there is no turning back now_

_You've woken up the demon _

_In me_

"Down with the Sickness"—Disturbed.

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

**Part One:**

**Daddy's Little Girl**

"Daddy?"

The shaft of light that spilled in from the hallway pierced his skull and entered his sleep fogged brain at warp speed. He opened one bleary eye.

"Yes sweetheart?"

"I have to go potty."

"Okay." He reached out a hand. The other side of the bed was undisturbed. He sighed. Lee wouldn't be back for another two days. He sat up, ran a hand through his overlong hair and regarded first his four year old daughter then the pair of crutches that had become his nemeses. "I'm coming."

"Daddy?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Why is Uncle Dean in Ari's Bedroom?"

"Uncle Dean is with Mommy in Washington. That's very far away, over 2300 miles, you must have been dreaming."

"Nuh-uh. He tweaked my nose," she giggled.

Sam hobbled across the moonlit room opting to go crutch-less. She could use the master bath.

"Come on Sally-Mae."

"My names not Sally-Mae it's Lyssa," she giggled again.

"Daddy?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Why are Uncle Dean's eyes so weird? Does he have comtacs?"

The temperature in the room dropped below arctic. He spun slowly to face her. "How are they weird?"

"You know, all glowy and yellow." She looked up at him and her smile fell away.

The baby started to cry. It echoed, coming from down the hall as well as the monitor on the nightstand. Sam leaned down and gently cupped Lyssa's face in his hands.

"Sweetheart I want you to go hide under the bed and don't come out until I tell you o.k.? Don't come out unless you hear me say dandelion just like we practiced o.k.?" He tried to keep his voice calm and steady.

She shook her head yes. Tears shimmered in her baby blue eyes. He brushed them away, kissed her forehead.

When she was out of sight Sam reached under the mattress and pulled out the demon-killing knife he'd gotten from Ruby years ago. It was a heavy familiar weight. Well balanced and keen edged. He slid his thumb along the length of its carved blade before exiting the room.

He limped as quietly as he could past long dark shadows and frustratingly placed furniture to the bedroom at the end of the hall. His back pressed against the wall he peered around the corner.

"Come on in Sammy join the party."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled deeply. He hopped and pivoted on his cast around the jamb into the room keeping his right arm close to his body.

The blade of the knife lay against his forearm. What appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be his brother leaned over the crib, hands clasped behind his back. Six month old Arika continued to cry.

"Who are you?"

"Come on Sam you don't recognize me?"

"You're not my brother."

"Of course I'm not. With all that lovely skin art _he's_ locked up tighter than Fort Knox." NotDean laughed and turned to look at Sam his eyes flipping yellow.

"How? We killed you."

"No, you killed Azazel," The demon said drawing each syllable out as though it were talking to a child. It put it's hands on the side of the crib.

"Who are you," Sam asked his jaw tightening. Pulse picking up pace. "What are you doing here?"

"Well I would think that should be a little bit obvious. I mean you're supposed to be the smart one. This is all about revenge. Pure and simple. See I have this plan a really good one if you ask me but I'm a little biased. It took years. I mean _years _to get it just right. Did you know we can ride shape-shifters? The things you learn when you've got nothing but time on your hands. I gotta say it's very surreal." It rolled its' eyes and huffed impatiently. "Come on Sammy you and your thick-witted brother sent me back to the pit. Twice. You really know how to hurt a girls' feelings."

"Meg?"

Dean/Meg leaned down and stroked the baby's cheek.

"Leave her alone." Sam stepped further into the room.

"So Little Sammy Winchester is now Big Daddy Winchester how…well, I'd say quaint but really it's just disturbing. She's cute though, I mean, if you like that sort of thing."

Sam glanced quickly around the room his nerves fraying more with each passing second. _Think dammit!_

"How'd you get past my wards." Keep it talking, gloating, buy some time.

"After you killed my father I got a promotion it came with a shiny badge and a book full of neat little tricks." The demon smirked, lifted the baby gently out of the crib.

Sam tensed, his body becoming a fist.

"Tell your Daddy to drop that big nasty knife before someone gets hurt."

Sam's hand contracted involuntarily on the handle of the knife. He shifted slightly, muscles twitching.

"I could snap her neck you know. Like a matchstick." The demon said never taking its eyes off the crying baby.

"Okay! Okay." Relenting Sam let the knife clatter to the floor directly in front of him. _Shit. Shit!_ _What now?_ "What do you want? Just…..what?"

"For you to beg. I want you to beg for me to have mercy on a _retired _hunter and his special little family. I want for you to cry and hurt and bleed and then Sam then I want you to die. On your knees. Choking on blood and tears. Call the other one."

Sam closed his eyes. _Lyssa. _He'd nearly forgotten.

"What?"

"Call _her_."

Sam hesitated for the space of time it took to take one deep breath, it seemed like an age, then he turned to his left and limped away from the door, away from the knife, over to the baby monitor on the dresser against the wall. Then he did what the demon told him to do. Because even though he'd rather swallow razor blades what choice did he really have?

"Lyssa? Sweetheart?" he said into the monitor. "It's okay dandelion come down to Ari's room." _Dear_ _god, forgive me. _

Light, quick footsteps sounded down the hall. Sam turned to face the door his heart pounding in his ears. Swallowed past the golf ball lodged in his chest.

She stopped in the doorway, his little girl, small and terrified. She had on her favorite nightgown, an old fashioned white linen and lace job that Leeanna had made herself. The light from the hall gilded her outline and turned her hair into a bright red-gold halo. Thumb snug in her mouth she swayed, trembled.

Sam, instinct rearing fast and hard, tried to take a step toward her. He was flung against the wall, pinned like a butterfly. The back of his head smacked the drywall with a heavy thud that made his vision swim.

"I hate you Sammy. I hate your brother. I hate your bastard of a father the most but he's not here so I only get to play with you two chuckleheads and the playground really just isn't big enough sweetie. Not for all of us at once. So you are going to die in a mysterious nursery fire just like your mother and sweet Jessie girl. Your children are going to watch. Then….." It sauntered over to Sam and leaned in real close so that he'd be the only one to hear. The whispers were steel edged feathers falling soft and vicious into his ear. His body shook with the strain of trying to move. Then it was over. He managed to catch the first heave before his belly rebelled.

It crouched down and gestured to Lyssa. "Come here honey."

She looked nervously from her father to her uncle and back again. Tears traced their way down her cheeks.

"Uncle Dean wouldn't hurt daddy." She whispered to him.

Sweaty and sick, plastered to the wall, barely able to move he managed to shake his head side to side just once. _No. _

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her gown and sniffled.

"Lyssa baby remember that trick you showed me the other day?" Sam said his mind racing. _Dear god, please forgive me. _"Why don't you show Uncle Dean?" He looked pointedly at the floor in front of her praying that she would understand. Praying that she would forgive him too.

"I'm scared daddy." She started to cry again. The low little whimpers tore at him.

"You know a trick?" The demon said grinning maliciously up at Sam. "I know a trick too. Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

"It's okay sweetheart."

"If I do you won't hurt daddy?" She sounded so small, so innocent.

"That depends on how good a trick it is." The demon chuckled.

"Mommy says it's a doozy." She said her voice hitching. She flung one chubby hand out in front of her. The hall light danced across bright pink fingernails and the blade of the silver knife, which had been lying on the floor between them, as it flew through the air.


	2. Time warp

The moment Sam used his daughter as a weapon time as he knew it ceased, it advanced not in minutes or seconds but in a series of heartbeats. They echoed in his ears drowning out everything else.

THUMP

The knife went wild flaying open the demon's cheek.

THUMP THUMP

It recoiled snarling.

THUMP

Sam felt his paralysis lift.

THUMP THUMP

The demon whirled toward the window still clutching the baby.

THUMP

Sam dove catching the hem of its jacket.

THUMP THUMP

Flames erupted where he had been standing.

THUMP

His fingers slipped. The window exploded.

THUMP THUMP

Sam heard the whoosh when the fire inhaled. Time caught up to itself. Lyssa screamed.

He craned his neck to see her backing slowly into the room the doorway engulfed in flames. They seemed to be following her across the floor, licking at the ruffle that edged the bottom of her little white nightgown. He pushed himself up grabbed her around the waist then cradling her against his chest he jumped from the second story window.

Sam hit the ground hard brutalizing his already broken left leg. He rolled tucking his shoulder in to blunt the force. He curled himself around Lyssa; momentum carried him down the short incline and onto the gravel driveway. He slid a few feet on his back until he hit the front tire of his Ford Aquatyc.

"Lyssa?" He sat up, pushed her just far enough away to see her face. Her eyes were shut tight. She whimpered clutching at him.

Sam hugged her close again. He quickly took in his surroundings, looking for signs of Meg and the baby. He noted the path his body had imprinted on the lawn, blades of grass already springing back up in places. Nothing. He saw nothing but he felt everything, the throbbing in his leg, the burning where the gravel had dug into his back, the despair of losing his child. _The sins of the father… _

"MEG!" He closed his eyes blocking out one sense to try and boost another. He strained to hear something, footsteps, a twig snapping instead….nothing, no sounds save for the crickets, his elder daughters soft weeping and the crackle pop of the fire eating his home. Eating the last eight years of his life. Lyssa began shaking, from shock or the cold.

"MEG!" Lyssa yelped. He felt bile rise into the back of his throat. Hot tears ran down his face leaving tracks in the dirt and soot.

He tried to stand found he could only do so while leaning on the car and off of his left leg entirely. He needed to search the rest of the yard, needed it like he needed air; he took a step and nearly crashed to his knees. Any pressure he put on his leg sent waves of blackness across his vision. He wanted to scream. He needed to scream.

Instead he reached into the wheel well of the S.U.V. and pulled out the magnetic key box. Police would be here soon. He didn't want to talk to them, wanted nothing more than to get to a phone and call the others.

Silently he prayed for the life of his youngest daughter while he opened the door of the truck and settled his eldest into the front seat. Carefully, so as not to jar his injured leg too much, he hopped around the front and got in behind the wheel. He took one last look at the home he'd ached for for so long. Then he started the engine and backed slowly out onto the street.


	3. Destroyed

He'd been driving a full two hours before he realized what direction his inner compass had sent him in. Like a ship at sea drawn to the distant glow of a lighthouse he was well on his way to Sioux Falls.

He was dirty, tired, and barefoot. His back was a mass of tiny razors where the gravel had torn through the thin t-shirt he'd worn to bed and into his flesh, his leg ached andhe was anxious to get to a phone he'd be able to use without drawing unwanted attention.

He drove in silence, the night flowing by, the scenery a blur.

Eventually the fierce ache in his leg became a dull throb then went numb. He figured that wasn't a good thing but couldn't bring himself to care besides, the ache in his chest more than made up for it.

The sun rose bleeding on the horizon.

Still he drove replaying the events of the night before over and over in his head until they were all he saw. Every now and then Lyssa would move or make a sound in her sleep and it would break his concentration. Then for a second he'd feel like a drowning man breaking the surface for one last gasp of air.

When he finally pulled up in front of Singer Salvage the clock read 7:37 p.m.. He'd been on the road for just over 18 hours. It felt like days. He hardly knew how he'd managed to get here and he was more than a little worried that Lyssa had slept straight through. He reached over and swept a stray bit of hair off of her face.

The thought of getting out of the truck by himself left him feeling lightheaded so he tapped the horn once, twice. Getting no response he cut the engine, leaned the seat back and closed his eyes. _Just for a second…_

X x X x X x X x X

Bobby was surprised to see Sam's suv sitting in the yard when he drove in a few hours later. He parked his pickup behind it and got out. He peered in the drivers' side window, from what little he could see in the dark Sam was passed out. He knocked on the thick safety glass.

Sam jerked awake.

"What are you doing sleeping in the car boy? You drunk?" He stepped back when he saw Sam reach for the door handle. The interior light came on and he got his first real look at Sam.

"Dear god! What stomped all over you?"

"I need the phone Bobby." Sam slowly swung his legs out of the car careful not to bang his injured leg on the doorframe. He stood just as slowly gripping the door for balance.

"You need a doctor." Bobby looked pointedly at Sam's swollen, discolored toes.

"Please Bobby. I…I'm gonna need some help getting in the house I can't put pressure on it but I think—" Sam broke off at the sound of movement from the passenger seat. He looked over his shoulder then leaned to the side so Bobby could see, "I think you should take her in first."

It took Bobby a second to realize what he was looking at. Sam's little girl curled in a ball, dressed in a filthy white nightgown. He immediately glanced in the rear window. No car seat.

"Where's the other one Sam?" Bobby felt chills go up his spine when Sam turned back to face him.

"Gone. It was Meg. Meg took her. I couldn't stop her. Dammit!" He swung his left fist back and connected with the rear window. It didn't shatter but it wanted to. He shuddered clenching and unclenching his fist.

"Alright take it easy now. I'll get your girl in the house then I'll come back out for you. Just hang in there and don't break anything else." He took Sam's nod as consent and walked around to the passenger side of the truck. He lifted Lyssa out of the car; trying valiantly not to panic at the way her body hung limp as a ragdoll. She smelled like fire. He took her in and laid her on the sofa then went back out for Sam.

"Okay son real easy now." He slung Sam's right arm over his shoulder his left arm around Sam's waist. They were doing fine until they came to the stairs. With a little fancy footwork and lots of luck they managed to get into the house only slightly out of breath.

"How long's she been like that?" Bobby asked nodding toward the sofa.

"I don't know since two maybe three in the morning. I think its maybe shock?"

Bobby nodded clapped his hands. "Alright, you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Yeah, after I call Dean and Leeanna they're supposed to be back later today but the house….. MY _home_ is probably ash by now and…"

He guided Sam to a chair at the kitchen table then handed him the phone.

"Thanks Bobby."

Bobby walked further in to the kitchen intending to make coffee. He listened to Sam with half an ear while he busied himself pulling down coffee and cups.

"Dean, call me as soon as you get his message. Something went down, the house is gone. Just… Just call me."

There was an audible click when Sam severed the connection then several odd tones as he dialed another number. Bobby had already filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. He was in the process of filling two coffee cups with instant crystals when he heard Sam cry out.

He spun around in time to see Sam drop the phone. He slid out of the chair onto his hands and knees crawling the few feet that separated him from the garbage can. He pulled himself up and retched violently into it.

Bobby picked up the phone reset it and hit redial. He wished he hadn't.

X x X x X x X x X

Sam leaned back till he was sitting, wedged in a corner, on the floor. He shut his eyes against the too bright lights, crossed his arms over his head. Everything was wrong. Warped. _This can't be real._ _Can't be._ Any minute now he'd wake up. He banged his head against the wall to prove it and was rewarded with blinding pain. It didn't stay there in his head though. No, it crawled downward until some small mean thing was clawing at his insides and he was crying again. Crying and shaking and the room was spinning and this awful keening relentlessly assaulted his ears until he felt his mind begin to shatter. He couldn't breathe. Stars exploded behind his eyes. And the room was spinning. Spinning out of control. He heard her scream in his head over the rising crescendo in his ears. _Can't breathe._

"Breathe dammit!" The shout startled a hiccup out of him. He panted into the sudden silence. Had that been him?

"Come on boy let's get you cleaned up."

"I can't." His voice came out hollow. He _was_ hollow and brittle as glass.

"Gotta. Ain't got no choice." He felt himself being pulled. He responded out of instinct, pushing up with his good leg. Bobby walked him to the bathroom so he could wash up and rinse his mouth. When he was through Bobby handed him two large white pills, a glass, clean shirt and pajama pants. He swallowed the pills without asking what they were. He didn't care. The pants were too short and Sam had to stifle the urge to giggle hysterically. He swallowed it all back down even as his stomach began to churn again.

Bobby helped him back to the front room where he had pulled out the sofa bed. Lyssa lay on it already. Her face had been washed and she was clad in an enormous grey t-shirt. She was awake. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He managed a smile for her sake; at least he hoped it was a smile. She studied him intently.

Sam crawled into the bed and pulled her into his arms. He laid his cheek against her forehead and closed his eyes.

"Thanks Bobby."

"Yeah, uh if you need anything you just call alright? I'll be down the hall."

Sam felt raw inside. He hugged Lyssa a little closer. She was all he had left.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

"Yes sweetheart?" He said completing the exchange for the thousandth time. The familiarity of it gave him a little comfort.

"Where's Ari?"

"I don't know baby."

"Daddy?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"I want Mommy." Sam's chest constricted.

"Me too sweetheart. Me too."


	4. Open wounds

Sam stayed up for the better part of the night talking quietly to Lyssa about anything and nothing. Shying away from questions concerning her mother or her uncle. Eventually she'd fallen back to sleep. He managed to doze a little thanks in part to the painkillers Bobby had provided. He didn't think he'd ever really sleep again.

He lay there in the dark staring at the point on the wall where a shaft of moonlight made shadows dance and listening to the soft cadence of her breathing. Sometime during the night Bobby had placed an old pair of crutches next to the pull-out. Whatever he'd taken earlier was working well enough for him to attempt to get out of the bed. It only took him a second to recall the rhythm of walking with crutches.

He went into the kitchen filled a glass with water and set it on the table. The hand that lifted the phone receiver off the cradle wasn't his, didn't feel like his. The finger dialing Leanna's cell phone number shook so badly that he had to start over again and again before it rang through. One ring, two, three, on the other end the strains of Beethoven's symphony number five would be cheerfully playing away. He knew nobody was going to answer but he had to hear it again. He had to make sure he hadn't been dreaming. After the fifth ring there was a click as his call was rerouted to her voicemail.

Silence then… someone sniffled and … "You have reached the voicemail of Leanna Anders. If you are getting this message then…" she broke off. The distinct sound of flesh against flesh then his brother's voice in the background, "Leave her alone you BITCH!" Another voice this one harder to make out. "Shut him up I am sick of hearing him…..I don't care rip out his tongue." Then close to the phone again. "Go ahead say it."

"If you are getting this message then I am dead." His brother screams then she's choking and choking and Sam can almost smell the blood. Someone's laughing. "Hey Sammy come out and play." Behind the taunt Dean yells… "MEG, Sammy!" Then he's choking too but mercifully it cuts off.

He didn't cry this time. He was too empty to cry. He sat there at the table clutching the phone so hard he was sure he'd leave imprints of his hand on it. Still he couldn't let it go. He was still sitting there….

X x X x X x X x X

….when Bobby walked into the kitchen Sam was already up sitting at the table. His eyes were vacant, miles away. Bobby gently peeled his fingers away from the phone and replaced it in the cradle.

"Don't torture yourself boy." Sam shook his head and attempted a wan smile. In Bobby's opinion he failed miserably but it was better than that thousand yard stare.

"I had to make sure you know? That I wasn't imagining things." Bobby did know so he didn't say anything else about it. He walked over to the counter where the remnants of last nights attempt at coffee still sat. He picked up where he'd left off turning the flame on under the coffee pot. Lyssa came into the kitchen a little while later and Sam helped her get breakfast then he sat and listened while she chattered. That was a good sign. The rest of the day passed quietly. Almost too quietly.

Two days later there was a knock on the front door, uniforms on the stoop. That afternoon Bobby left in his tow truck for Washington. It was damn near the hardest thing he'd ever had to do but someone had to identify the bodies and Sam, well, he thought that maybe it would be the straw that broke the camels back for Sam. So he went. Alone.

He didn't know what he'd expected to see when he walked into the house but Sam on the floor doing bent knee push ups, Lyssa seated on his back hadn't been on the list. Sam didn't look up when he walked in. Lyssa flashed him a huge grin.

He shook his head. Better him doing that then sitting and rotting away. Later, after Sam had put Lyssa down for the night, Bobby called him into the kitchen to sit while he brewed up some coffee. Real coffee this time. It was such a calm, simple, normal thing. He needed calm and normal for at least tonight because tomorrow they'd be bringing Dean and Leanna home for the last time.

"Be here tomorrow. Well up to the coroner's anyway." He said setting down a steaming cup in front of Sam.

"Ok." Sam replied, his voice flat. He was staring at the cup in front of him as though it held the secrets of the universe. Silence stretched between them like taffy on a pull.

After a while, Sam picked up his coffee and tucking one crutch under his right arm, he hitched out of the kitchen to the large wraparound porch outside. Bobby debated following him. He almost didn't. The sound of shattering glass decided for him.

The cup of coffee sat steaming on the porch rail. From where he stood, he could see Sam leaning hands spread on the hood of his SUV. The single crutch poked out from the shattered windshield. He'd seen hundreds of busted windshields. Hell he owned a damned junk yard but this? It scared the hell out of him.

The SUV was a Ford Aquatyc. In addition to being hydrogen fueled this particular model had near impervious glass. Safety feature. It was supposed to be able to withstand a head on collision with a Mac Truck. _At least he hadn't used his fist._

The next morning Sam had him tarp the Impala and store it.

"I can't drive it. I can barely look at it." He did look at it though. All that day he kept peeking inside the shed Bobby had pulled it into. He never touched it. Never moved the tarp just looked. That night, after Lyssa had finally drifted off, they built a pyre. He'd offered to do it alone but Sam had insisted on helping even though the cost of it all was etched plain as day on his face. In the glow of the flames Bobby could see him crying silently.

They scattered some of the ashes out in the field behind the yard. It was real pretty back there. Sam put a handful inside the Impala's trunk.

"When are you gonna tell her that they're gone?"

"Never?" Sam asked hopefully.

Bobby shook his head.

"Not yet…. soon." Sam stared down at the stretch of black cord that hung around his neck, it was the same piece of cord that Dean's amulet had hung from since the day Sam had given it to him. Now it shared its length with Leeanna's little gold ring.

Time picked up pace after that. Despite his broken limb Sam worked out for hours every day, with ruthless intensity, till he was all hard angles, bone and sinew. In the evenings he'd read to Lyssa. Sometimes from one of the books in Bobby's extensive collection. He showed Lyssa how to break down and clean a gun. She practiced moving things.

Days ran into weeks ran into months. Bobby became increasingly uneasy with every passing hour. He'd thought at first that things would be okay but more and more Sam had the lean, hungry look that Bobby had always associated with John.

The day Bobby cut his cast off Sam left the yard in his Ford. He came back in a forest green Jeep Wrangler. He said he'd pick up the 37' long motor home, which was being sent for a custom paint job, at the end of the week.

He drove that monster of a vehicle into Bobby's yard at 11:00 on a Saturday morning. He packed up the few things he'd purchased for Lyssa and himself. That was that. After spending nearly three months holed up at Singer Salvage, Sam was ready to leave.

"Where're you gonna go boy? Chasing after that thing like your daddy did? Wasting your life?"

"I have to find my daughter." He grabbed his duffel and Lyssa's knapsack.

"You're not planning on taking that one with you? Right?"

"She's all I got Bobby. She stays with me."

"And just what the hell do you figure you're gonna do with a four-year old when you're out hunting huh? Strap her to your back? Come on Sam use your head. If you're gonna go off and get yourself dead at least leave her here."

"I can't." He shuffled his feet.

Bobby didn't want to ask his next question but he felt he had to. Had to try and get through to him somehow.

"What if there isn't anything to find? What then son?"

A muscle twitched in Sam's jaw. His eyes went diamond hard and when he opened his mouth it was John who spoke. "Then I will cut a swath across the world to find that demon. There won't be a corner for it to hide in even if I have to walk into hell myself to kill it and I _will _kill it."

"You sound just like him you know. You saw what hunting from vengeance did to him. You were there!"

"This won't be the same."

"How d'you figure?"

"I'm not the same. Besides I have an advantage my father didn't."

"And what's that huh?"

"Having him as a father. For the first time in my life I truly understand him. What it was like for him but _I _don't have to spend the next twenty years learning this stuff. I already know it."

_Damn fool._ "You'd do it to her then? What your daddy did to you? Drag her helter skelter across the country. Leave her to fend for herself while you're out feeding an obsession that no possible good can come from."

Sam had the courtesy to look ashamed. "What do you expect me to do Bobby? I tried. I tried to lay off. This life is in my blood, in my bones. It'll always find me." He shrugged adding quietly, "It'll find her."

Bobby opened his mouth to argue more, decided there wasn't really anything else he could say. _Damn Winchesters. Whole lot of 'em too stubborn for their own good. _

"Look thanks for everything Bobby. I'll keep in touch. Lyssa!"

"I love you like my own Sam but if you walk out that door with that child don't you come back."

Sam nodded. Lyssa ran in from the other room pigtails bouncing. She grabbed her daddy's outstretched hand, waved over her shoulder at Bobby.

"Bye Uncle Bobby!"

Then they were gone swallowed by the glare of the sunlight reflecting off the tears in Bobby's eyes.


	5. This is Halloween

**A/N:** It bears repeating I own nothing except a couple of moody cats. But if I did…..

Also constructive criticism is always welcome. Aaaaand GO!

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

_I know what darkness means_

_(And the void you left for me)_

_The isolation stings_

_(So I think it wants to bleed)_

_The echoes in my brain_

_(Of the things you said to me)_

_You took my everything _

_Now I'm coming for you_

"Won't Back Down"—Fuel

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

**Part Two:**

**Daddy Knows Best**

When Lyssa Winchester was four years old her life changed monumentally. Her father, through sheer force of will, managed to shield her from the worst of it. Like most children her age, she was more resilient than one would think. She readily accepted with innocence and full faith the explanations her father gave. Sometimes they made her sad, like when he told her about her mother and her uncle, but he was always there with open arms.

He bought her a puppy that year, not long after they left Uncle Bobby's house, so she wouldn't be alone when he left sometimes at night. She knew he didn't want to go because he told her so. No, he didn't want to, he had to and sometimes you had to do things you didn't want to, like pick up your toys or take medicine. So he would kiss her and pat the puppy that she named Moon. They would repeat the rules together then he would wait outside the door until he heard her set all the locks. Daddy said nothing would bother her as long as she stayed inside the R.V. because there were special pictures painted on the outside that would scare the monsters away. He taught her all about the monsters.

He also taught her how to read and how to climb trees. They played hide and seek a lot out in the woods. Sometimes Daddy would have to give up cause she hid so good. He'd call dandelion and she'd come running out to him and he would smile.

On Monday's and on Friday's Daddy would have her do karate stuff with him. She liked the karate stuff. She wanted to do it every day like he did but he said she was too little still.

Every now and then Daddy's phone would ring and his eyes would get dark and they would leave wherever they were. Lyssa didn't like it when his eyes were like that. Those were the only times she was afraid.

Two years after they'd left the burning house in the middle of the night her daddy took her trick or treating for the first time.

X x X x X x X x X

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Lyssa grinned from ear to ear. She'd been bouncing off the walls ever since Sam had explained where they were going. Three days earlier, after much careful consideration, Lyssa had decided to dress as an angel for Halloween. She said it was the scariest thing she could think of.

"Got your bag?"

"Yes sir," she saluted with said bag, which sported a rather large somewhat goofy looking jack-o-lantern.

"Got your flashlight?"

"Aye-firmative."

"Got your iron cross?"

"That's a big ten four." She lifted it out from under her shirt so he could see. _Really gonna have to cut her c.b. time down. _ Sam thought for the umpteenth time that week.

"Got…..your nose!" He said pinching that appendage between his knuckles.

"Da-_ddy_."

"Okay, Okay." He held up his hands in surrender. "Don't smite me."

"Daddy!"

"Alright. Let's go." Sam picked up his keys and the pistol that was sitting on the counter near the door. He dropped the magazine out and checked to make sure he'd loaded the iron rounds. Satisfied he tapped it twice against his palm, reloaded it and tucked into the small of his back. He never stopped hunting.

Sam parked the Jeep in a public lot in the down town area of Redtree, Oregon. There were kids everywhere. Most were dressed for the occasion. He noted more than a few "Lord of the Rings" costumes in celebration of its 20th anniversary. That would make his job that much more difficult.

They got out and joined the throng of Trick-or-Treaters walking eastward down Main Street. Lyssa pulled him along stopping at every house. She marveled over the decorations and even though he had never really liked Halloween he thought that, looking at everything through her eyes, maybe he could.

As they walked, between the ooh-ing and aah-ing over pumpkins and costumes and everything else, Sam scanned the sea of faces. Tonight's outing had a dual purpose. The first was to fill that ridiculous bag. The second was to try and locate the Fae that had been making off with one kid every Halloween for the last ten years. From what evidence he'd been able to gather it was an elf and not he kind that made cookies in a tree. The steal your kids and kill your cattle kind. Though what this one was doing so far from Ireland was beyond him.

"Daddy, look at that house!" Lyssa hopped up and down pointing ahead. Sam looked. Half a block in front of them there was a small crowd gathered in front of an elaborately decorated house. He cocked an eyebrow.

"You want to go there next don't you?"

She flashed him her best "daddy's little girl" look. "Please?"

"Okay, but only if you hold my hand. That house looks really scary."

She rolled her eyes but held out her hand.

Up close the house was even more impressive. A fog machine blew smoke from between the bushes, spider web hung everywhere, eerie organ music drifted out of the front window. Someone had strategically placed several fake body parts and interactive displays that moved and groaned. Several people dressed in very convincing zombie costumes walked around in the yard lunging at whoever dared to venture up the walk to the porch where a woman dressed as a vampire sat handing out candy. A guy in coveralls and carrying a chainsaw took care of whoever the zombies didn't. Several wide-eyed children stood in a line facing the house, their parents gently coaxing. They all shook their heads and tried to back up.

Lyssa pushed past them pulling Sam with her. Without hesitation she began up the walk. She completely ignored the zombies and she actually shooed the guy wielding the chainsaw out of her way. When she got to the woman on the stairs she dutifully held out her bag.

"Trick-or-Treat!"

"Wow, aren't you brave." The woman laughed.

"Nah, don't have to be 'cause you're not real monsters."

"How do _you _know leetle girl," The woman said raising her arms and curling her fingers into claws.

"Cause," Lyssa replied leaning in conspiratorially and dropping her voice an octave, "If you were, my daddy would have gotten you already. Kkkkkkktt." She drew her finger across her throat. Her face was so somber Sam nearly choked on the tootsie roll he'd popped into his mouth. The woman stopped laughing. She looked Sam down then up again. _Should've shaved_, he thought self-consciously and, in retrospect, all black, even on Halloween did tend to make him look… intimidating was almost an understatement.

"Kids huh?" He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. She just stared at him. Eyes like pie plates. "Well, uh, yeah we're just gonna….. Say thank you Lyssa."

"Thank you."

He took Lyssa's hand and led her back down the walk. _Gonna have to have a talk about the virtues of discretion. _

Half an hour and ten pounds of candy later Lyssa was ready to call it a night. Sam, wanting to drop the bag of candy off, had headed back toward the lot they'd left the Jeep in. He also wanted to take a look inside the park across the street from it.

"Just a little longer ok sweetie I'm looking for…."

"Tommy! Tommy! Oh, where are you? TOMMY!"

"….that." Sam swung Lyssa up into his arms. He jogged across the street.

"Tommy Nielson you come out here right now! RIGHT. NOW." The voice came from behind a small stand of trees. Sam followed the short narrow path to the other side. There he found a young woman hugging herself and trying to look in the windows of a small house. A house in the park?

"Ma'am," He reached into his coat and pulled out a badge, "Officer Ben Burnley. I heard you yelling. Anything I can do?"

"My son, we were trick-or-treating, we stopped at that house up the road. The one with all the decorations? Anyway he didn't want to go up but I wanted to look at something in the yard. When I turned around he was gone. So I started walking back the way we'd come and I swear I saw him turn the corner across the way," she gestured in the direction of the corner that bordered the lot across the street, "So I started calling him but he didn't stop and then I saw him run in here but the doors are locked and he won't answer me."

"Did you see anyone with him? "

"No no-one."

"Did you notice anything strange?"

"Well no I… wait, there were these two kids that followed us around for most of the night. They were dressed kind of like those people from that movie. You know the Lord of something."

_Damn._ He really hated being right. "Stay here in case he comes out. I have a lock pick kit in my car in that lot over there. I'm going to go get it I'll be right back."

"Oh thank god! Ok. I'll stay."

Sam opened the passenger door and deposited Lyssa on the seat. He leaned across her and reached into the center console.

"What's rule number one?" He asked as he searched for the picks.

"Stay in the car."

"Why?"

"Cause it's warded and God can't even get in."

"Number two?"

"Don't open the doors or windows." He stuffed the picks in his pocket and immediately opened the glove box to look for a flashlight.

"For?"

"Anyone, not even Daddy!" She patted his head and wiggled in the seat.

"Number three?"

"Never forget rules number one or two."

He touched his forehead to hers.

"I'll be back soon. Why don't you color me a picture?"

"Ok. Candy?" She said hopefully.

"Sorry sweetheart not till I check it."

She sighed dramatically.

Sam shut the car door and waited for the click that meant she'd locked it. She flashed him a thumbs up sign then disappeared into the cargo area behind the front seats.

He waved fighting down the sick, panicked, guilty feeling he got every time he left her alone then turned and loped across the street back through the small copse of trees to the little house on the other side. A three quarter moon gave the park beyond it an eerie, ethereal look. Its light slipped like liquid silver over the playground equipment. He shook his head. _Yeah there's definitely fae here somewhere._

"Ma'am?" He found her sitting on the stairs that lead up to a small enclosed porch in the front of the house. She stood and laid her hand on his arm.

"Oh, it's Danielle, thank you so much for doing this." He nodded.

"Okay Danielle I want you to go sit over there," he said pointing to a bench several feet away. "I should be back out in a few minutes."

"You're not going in there alone are you? I mean don't you guys usually have back up?"

"Yeah," he lied. "They'll be here soon."

He climbed the stairs two at a time. It only took him a minute to get past the lock. Once inside he pulled out the HK45 he wore at his back and screwed the silencer into the barrel. He didn't need the kid's mom to panic and call the real police. He took his flashlight out of his pocket, took a minute to listen to the house and get his bearings. Moonlight drifted in through a few of the windows casting odd shadows.

He was standing in what appeared to be an open recreation area. On the wall hung numerous posters. He passed the beam of his flashlight across a few. They featured among other things the slogan "Eagle troop 131. Best troop under the sun!" This park was definitely the perfect spot for a Boy Scout meeting place.

There was a sudden crash from further in the house.

"Tommy? Tommy Nielson." He ran toward the back of the house through a small neat dining room to a set of saloon doors beyond which lay the kitchen. He pressed his back against the wall. Holding the gun in front of him he peeked around the corner. On the floor was a large bag of aluminum cans that had been scattered as though someone had tripped over it.

"It's ok to come out Tommy. I'm a policeman. Your mom's outside and she's really worried."

Taking a chance he flicked the switch inside the door flooding the room with light. Nothing out of the ordinary except the overturned bag of cans. To his left was a slim door marked pantry. It stood slightly ajar. He jerked it open aiming his gun into the darkness.


	6. Land of confusion

Lyssa hummed to herself as she spread a rainbow across the Halloween themed coloring pages Sam had printed for her. She lay on a quilt in the space where the back seat used to be. Daddy had taken it out and replaced it with some of her things. Just in case.

She heard someone tapping on the window. When she looked up she saw the lady from across the street. The lady kept looking over her shoulder to where the park was.

"Hey, your daddy told me to come sit with you. Why don't you open the door?" She smiled. It wasn't a very nice smile.

Lyssa got up on her knees and pressed her forehead against the window. "What's the magic word?" she asked smiling back.

"Please?"

"Nope. It's Christo."

The lady flinched. Her eyes turned black.

"Rule number two," Lyssa said holding up her fingers in a V, "Never open the doors or windows."

The lady made an ugly face and lunged at the window screaming when she touched it.

"My daddy will be back soon you know." Lyssa stated matter of factly.

"So," said the lady shrugging her shoulders.

"So, you should run."

X x X x X x X x X

The smell of fresh blood assaulted him, sharp and metallic and there was something else….sickly sweet and cloying. He pulled the cord to the over head light; it clicked but refused to come on. He moved to the side so that light from the kitchen spilled in illuminating two large puddles. He was only able to identify the one. A set of small footprints, flanked on both sides by long smears of blood and something darker, disappeared into the blackness at the rear of the pantry. From that blackness came rustling then a soft thump.

"Tommy?" Sam stepped over the mess following the trail with his flashlight. The footprints lead to a trapdoor. He lifted it and directed the beam down into the shadows. There was more blood on the steps that lead down into the cellar. Cautiously he placed one foot on the top one saying a silent prayer of thanks when it creaked but didn't give under his weight. At the bottom, he found more tracks. They ended at a body.

His phone rang as he was bending to flip the body over. It shouldn't have, he'd set it to silent before entering the house. He dragged it from his back pocket and stared at the glowing I.D. screen. _Leeanna Anders._ Something white-hot flared to life inside him. Meg.

"Where are you bitch?"

"Tsk tsk. Didn't you mother teach you that it's not polite to call people names. Oh, that's right, she didn't, because _my _daddy pinned her to the ceiling en flambé," she snickered. "Do you like my presents Sammy? You know for all the lore the Fae aren't really as badass as I'd thought they'd be."

He toed the body that lay on the ground in front of him turning it over and found the origin of the foul smelling puddle above. Greenish yellow fluid seeped from the elf's torn and broken face. He buried his nose in the crook of his elbow.

"There's someone here that wants to say hi Sam, go ahead honey," the sound of a child weeping drifted from the earpiece then, "Is that my mom? Mommy?" Sam's heart skipped a beat. His jaw tensed.

"Let him go Meg."

"Come get him _Sam_. All you have to do is follow the breadcrumbs." The line went dead.

"Fuck!" Sam kicked the dead elf several times then leaned back against the stairs, chest heaving. _Get it together Winchester. _He played the light off his surroundings. Other than the body at his feet there wasn't much down there, to his left was a wall lined with shelves, boxes labeled Christmas and Easter lined them. Below them on the floor lay another dead elf. To his right the cellar continued on for a good 35 feet of empty space. Nothing.

On his second pass, he noticed a small oval object about 10 feet to his right; he walked over and knelt to pick it up. It was red and slightly cold and when he turned it in his fingers he saw the distinctive mark of the candy company on its belly. M&M. It was a damned peanut M&M. He stood and heard a crunch. Looking down he realized there was a line of them laid out in all their brilliantly colored glory all the way to the far end of the cellar. _Bread crumbs._ He closed his eyes and for a moment, he was transported into the woods. He was hunting a Wendigo, there was some scared teenager following him, and he was playing the hero, a role that hadn't fit him well back then.

He followed the candy to the far wall of the cellar. The line stopped short next to an old cabinet. He felt a draft coming from under it. _You've got to be kidding. _He started feeling around on it and was rewarded when he pulled out the small drawer in the center. The cabinet swung open to reveal a dirt tunnel whose walls glowed faintly. This must be how the Fae had been getting in and out of the town. He ducked in.

The tunnel twisted and turned but there were no branches so he wasn't too worried about getting lost. His phone went off again.

"How many kids does it take to fill a 30 gallon garbage bag?"

"Don't you touch him." Sam ground out jogging a little faster.

As he rounded the final bend the glow got brighter and he found himself in a good sized cavern. In the center sat a boy in a cowboy costume. He had his back to Sam who still held the phone to his ear.

"Tommy." He called softly. He scanned the area looking for he had no idea who. The last time he'd run up against Meg she'd been hijacking a shape-shifter.

"Marco." Sam said into the phone.

"Polo." Tommy answered as he turned. His eyes were as yellow as sulfur and he was grinning like a hyena.


	7. When it's over

Sam dropped his phone, leveled his gun at the boy. Meg just kept smiling with Tommy's mouth. When it opened the voice of a woman crawled out.

"Oh put it away Sam. We both know iron rounds won't work on me."

He looked down at the weapon he was holding as though he'd never seen it before.

"You…nooo. I mean you didn't forget did you?"

He scowled. _Shit. _

"You did! HA! _That_ ispriceless."

"Fuck you."

"No, I really think this time it's fuck _you _Sammy." It wasn't grinning anymore. It was snarling. It spun around on all fours. Its mouth seemed to hold an impossible amount of teeth. It swayed serpentine back and forth never taking its jaundiced eyes off him.

He was so tense he thought his toes would cramp. And he was scared. For the first time in years he was truly scared. The only weapon he had against this thing was his ability. The one he'd used on Lillith with near fatal results. It left him in a three-month long coma. Couldn't chance it. _Has to be something…_

"Saa-mmy." It sing-songed using the boys' voice once again. It laughed and the sound was like breaking glass. There was a soft shuffle as it started circling low on the ground to its left. Closer. Closer.

He glanced around frantically.

"Oh Sammy you're in trouble again. You're in big trouble and there's no-one coming to save you. Not this time."

Reluctantly he backed away from the hole in the wall he'd entered the cavern through. He kept the gun trained on Tommy for no other reason than he had to do something. He kept looking. The chamber was dome shaped and circular probably 45-50 feet across but mostly empty like it had been scooped out.

"All around the mulberry bush," it chanted.

There were a few large rocks scattered around but nothing big enough to hide an alternate route out of this little piece of hell.

"The monkey chased the weasel."

He stumbled on something caught himself and glanced down taking a good look at the floor. It was littered with bones. He inhaled sharply.

"What'd you think they did with those kids? Play tiddly winks?"

A potent combination of anger, fear and frustration made his head buzz. He was starting to feel jittery from too much adrenaline.

"Time's up Sam." It stopped abruptly, right in front of the entrance.

Out of options, he did the only thing he could think of. There was a flare and a quiet thwap as the bullet passed through the silencer.

It looked quizzically at him then at the red stain that was slowly blooming on the front of Tommy's new white shirt. "You shot the kid. I ….I can't believe you shot the kid! Gotta say I really didn't think you had the balls."

He lunged, taking advantage of this momentary lapse in concentration. He tackled it around the waist sending them both crashing into the rock wall. His teeth clacked together. The gun skittered across the floor. He landed heavily on top of the small body, something crunched, Sam felt dizzy. He jumped to his feet anyway. Fight over; flight was ready to run the rest of the game. He made it two steps before getting dropped from behind. He rolled instinctively, landing on hands and knees. His shoulder throbbed. He scanned the floor for the gun. For something, anything. _SHIT! _ It came at him again, fast. Unbelievably fast. Blow after blow came with such speed and ferocity that he hardly had time to register them much less stand. He lashed out blindly. Refusing to think about the body Meg was riding. He landed as many as he took. His hands stung where he'd scraped them on teeth. He had to get out of there. They were rolling rocks biting into flesh. He hoped he hadn't done any permanent damage. Maybe the kid could still be saved. He felt the gun pressing into his back. He shifted grabbing for it. Hands not his grabbing too.

"Fuck!" His side was on fire, the pain making his vision go red at the edges. He found himself sprawled flat on his back stunned and alone? Wow, he thought hysterically, he'd never had his ass handed to him by a nine-year old before. He touched his side, put his finger through the hole the bullet had made in his shirt. _That's gonna leave a mark. _

"Get up." The demon wearing the little boy said.

It was panting. He was panting. Blood poured from its nose. He felt the same trickling down the side of his face into his ear. Pooling warmly in the space where his back didn't quite touch the ground.

"Get up! Getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!" It punctuated each demand with a sharp kick.

He tried to obey, his frayed nerve endings telling his quickly fading brain that it would be better for all parties involved if he would _just_ obey. He turned onto his stomach, started to push himself up, the world canted…..

X x X x X x X x X

He came awake coughing and spluttering. Cold water rained down on him in a torrent. He blinked. Slowly the world came into focus. He smelled grass and the faint chemical odor of fuel exhaust. Outside. He was outside. The first thing he saw was Meg, as he'd known her before, standing over him with an inappropriately cheerful, cartoon decorated plastic bucket.

"Wakey Wakey Sammy boy."

It was still dark. That was good. He was sitting on the concrete his back against the oversized rear tire of his Jeep. His watch read 11:57 p.m.. He'd been inside for nearly two hours.

Meg pointed to the keypad on the passenger side door.

"What's the code Sam?"

"Meg?" He finally realized what he was looking at. How was she was standing there in that body? That poor girl had died close to twenty years ago.

She smirked. "This always was my favorite body. Thanks to my little discovery I can have it again. Nice right? But enough about me, you were just going to give me the code to your treasure box here."

Something clicked in his head. Something he'd noticed but failed to comprehend at the time. "The blood."

"What?"

"The puddle of blood in the pantry. Human blood. And where's the kids' mom? Huh? Shit. I never had a chance did I? To save that kid. He was already dead by the time I got into the house."

"I had to get you down there somehow didn't I? Focus." She snapped her fingers in his face. "I know this rig is booby trapped so what's the code?"

He pulled himself to his feet, hissed through his teeth, clapped his hand to his side. The delicate strains of Beethoven's Symphony number 5 drifted through the back window. He glanced in and saw Lyssa curled up on the floor her headphones covering her ears. _She could sleep through a hurricane wearing those things._

"Fuck you." He spat in her face. Without a weapon he only had one choice.

Her eyes flashed. Her lips became a thin compressed line. She reared back with one hand and let fly with a slap any pimp would be proud of.

He felt heat where the skin on his left cheek had broken open.

"No more games Winchester. What's the code?"

"Fuck. You." _Can't give up too easily. She won't go for it. _

Fast. Faster than a rattlesnake strike her thumb plunged into the hole in his side. The muscles in his neck strained.

"This is becoming tedious. Tell me or I _will_ leave your mangled corpse here on the ground for her to find first thing in the morning."

To make sure he knew she meant business this time, she twisted her thumb increasing the pressure. Pain radiated down to his knee and up to his shoulder. His stomach gave a lazy flip.

"Ok!" He grunted. Panted. Grunted. Face red and wet. "Ok, Ok."

He reached out and with trembling fingers tapped out the six digit key code.

"I need the key." He held out his hand palm up. "Code's no good without the key."

She eyed him warily before reaching in her pocket and pulling out his keys.

He slid the key into the lock. Slowly turned it. Soft click. Pulled the handle and the door was open.

He stepped to the side, staggered, fell.

She grinned and the thing wouldn't have looked more comfortable if it were perched on a sharks face. _Bitch._

"Finally." She said moving to occupy the space he had just vacated.

That's when he moved, jumping up and grabbing her around the neck from behind. Using all his weight he slammed her forward so that she was half in and half out of the Jeep. Smoke wafted from her skin. She screamed, bucking and clawing at him over her shoulder as the wards hidden under the Jeeps paint did their job. He leaned in closer, shoving his forearm into the space where his hand had been. She screamed again. This time a roiling black cloud poured from her mouth, slithering out of the Jeep then flying off and disappearing into the night sky. He continued to hold her there shaking and jittery from blood loss and adrenaline over load. Riffling through her pockets, he found both his and Leeanna's cell phones. In her waistband was his gun. He quickly scanned the area to make sure he was still alone before he heaved the body to the ground, pressed the barrel of the gun against her head and unloaded two rounds in swift succession. Just to be on the safe side.

X x X x X x X x X

By the time Sam pulled into the R.V. park he was crashing fast and everything hurt. He got out of the Jeep, slipped around back and opened the cargo door. He took the sticky lollipop from Lyssa's equally sticky hand and tossed it away. After wiping his hand on his pants, a futile effort under the circumstances, he lifted her, groaning as he did so. Thankfully, she continued sleeping. He carried her inside, pulled off her wings and hale then laid her on the bed.

In the kitchen he shook several Vicodin out of a bottle, chewed them wincing at the taste. A bottle of Killian's made the perfect chaser.

He stripped off his shirt, tossed it in the trash. He put his hand behind his back feeling for an exit wound, found none, decided to get in the shower and give the painkillers a chance to start working.

Forty five minutes later he stood over the tiny bathroom sink his medical kit on the toilet seat. Using a pair of forceps and a tabletop vanity mirror, he removed the bullet and several shreds of his black t-shirt before cleaning, stitching and bandaging the wound.

The left side of his face was hot and swollen and already turning black in places. He used butterfly tapes to close the gash beneath his left eye. One more mark of honor.

His chest and stomach were a mass of bruises in various stages of development and his shoulder hurt something fierce. He figured his back probably didn't look too much better but decided not to push it by trying to see. Stowing the sharps he flicked off the light, grabbed an ice pack from the freezer on his way back through the kitchen and collapsed onto the bed.

X x X x X x X x X

"Daddy?"

He woke sluggishly feeling stiff and sore. He blinked trying to focus on the clock.

"Daddy did you get the monster?"

_More like the monster got me. _"Yes sweetheart. I did." He sat up, grimacing when he felt his stitches tug.

"You got some good ouches huh?" She asked studying his face.

_That's an understatement. _"What? These? Nah. Can't even feel 'em."

She reached one little hand toward his cheek. He braced himself but her touch was feather light, he barely felt it.

"Poor daddy."

"You should have seen the other guy." He said lightly, ruffling her hair. He hated for her to worry. She continued to stare as though she could see through the smile he only partially felt. Then as if a switch was flipped, her face brightened.

"Breakfast?" She asked smiling again.

"Poptarts." He stated, an overwhelming fondness for the 30-second breakfast pastries filling his chest.

He stood and shuffled into the kitchen wanting nothing more than to down half the bottle of vicodin and go back to bed, however, he had to content himself with one pill and a seat in the too small rocking chair; Lyssa on his lap munching her poptart and chatting endlessly about her first adventure in trick-or-treating.

God, he hated Halloween.


	8. What have you done

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

_You better run, oh baby you better run  
I got a blade like lightning, silver bullets in my gun….._

_I'm iron & steel, I'm bad to the bone  
You come looking for trouble, honey don't you come alone…._

"You Better Run"- Motorhead.

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

Over the next few years Sam tracked Meg mercilessly but never got close enough for a confrontation. She satisfied her never-ending need to torment him by calling him sporadically. Sometimes not for months. Sometimes 24 times in a day. She'd in turn threaten then cajole. Scream then whisper. No matter what she said, it always found its mark. No matter how many times she called, no matter what he heard on the other end he had to answer. He had to listen. It kept him focused. Even when he'd feel that acid-burn in the back of his throat or the pressure behind his eyes telling him that yes, he could still cry, he would listen.

Sometimes he'd get a tip, get closer than she liked. Then she'd leave photos. Grisly taunts. If she was nothing else, she was an accomplished photographer. Often the people in the photos were strangers. Innocent people sacrificed to her obsession with making him suffer. More rarely they weren't. Some would be snapshots of other hunters. People whose names he knew. Who had helped him at one time or another. These he would burn. They deserved better. They deserved to be remembered but he wouldn't chance Lyssa finding them. Ever.

He saved people. Hunted anything that had the misfortune to cross his path. Family business right? It was what he did. What he'd always done, helped those he could, mourned those he couldn't.

He continued to train his daughter both physically and mentally. She was an ideal student. Sharp and eager. Like his brother had been. By the age of nine she knew more, had seen more, been through more than he had at twelve or thirteen.

Three years later she drew blood for the first time. Never mind that it was a monster. Killing is killing.

X x X x X x X x X

She ran swift and sure, hurdling fallen trees, ducking below branches. She clutched the gun to her chest like her father had taught her. One hand on the grip, finger on the trigger, the other on the barrel. The black dog running beside her could have been a ghost for all the noise it made. She scanned the area as she ran alert for any signs that he was near.

Suddenly the dog bounded ahead of her planting its feet and lowering its head. She dove and rolled. THOCK! Something hit the tree directly behind where she'd been standing. She whipped her hand out sending a storm of leaves flying in the direction the shot came from. Then she was on her feet again dodging and weaving. THOCK! THOCK! One shot each to the two trees she'd run between. He was messing with her now. He never missed like that.

To her left she spied the ribbon she'd used to mark a small cave she'd found earlier in the day. It was no more than a hole in the ground really, maybe 10 feet wide and about 4 ½ feet high but well hidden by a wall of wild raspberry bushes and lots of grass. She'd have to crouch a little once inside. _Oh well no pain no gain._

The dog kept pace, instinctively juking when her mistress did. The girl put her head down and ran full out knowing her smaller, leaner frame would give her an advantage in the dense foliage. Closing in on the last few feet between her and her refuge she spun throwing her hand out again and dropping letting her momentum carry her backward through the whirlwind of sticks and leaves she'd created. It erased any marks of her passing even as her slight weight made them.

She slid on her belly feet first toward the hole, gun still tight against her chest. The dog had already disappeared.

_Down the rabbit hole Alice._

She almost missed the ribbon when she passed, managed to grab it with two fingers. Then she was…...

X x X x X x X x X

…Gone? Sam skidded to a halt in front of the thickest wall of raspberry bushes he'd ever seen. _No way she went through there._

Not a single broken branch. He spat out a rather bitter tasting piece of greenery. She'd really caught him with that last little leaf storm.

It had been annoying but non-damaging. No matter how hard she tried she could only hurl small things and not very hard either. _Note to self-telekinesis=bad offense but good defense._

He turned in a slow circle raking his eyes over every inch of ground. Nothing. He turned a second circle this time focusing on the trees. Nothing. _Damn! _Pride welled in his chest. If she could evade him, she could evade anything.

He completed his second circuit again facing the bushes.

THOCK!

He stared down in disbelief at the bright green splash covering the upper left side of his vest. Right over his heart.

The slightest movement in the grass near his right boot caught his eye. He saw the barrel of the paintball gun peeking out about…..

THOCK!

… a half second too late.

"You can come out now," he said wiping green paint from his forehead.

She crawled from her sanctuary with an enormous grin plastered to her face.

"Gotcha!" She cried pointing at the stain on his chest.

He regarded his 12-year-old daughter with what he hoped was a look of reproach. "Was the head shot necessary?"

"_Ye-ah_. Head means dead remember. Your rules not mine." She shrugged before handing him her gun. She dropped down and reached into the hole. At 5'4" and 100 lbs, she was lanky but surprisingly strong due mostly to the intensive training she'd been undergoing for the past six years.

"Come on Moonie," she huffed pulling the dog out of the hole by its shoulders then she was on her back and the dog was licking her face.

"One more?" She asked smiling up at him.

He checked his watch. They'd been out for nearly seven hours. "I think we should head back I'm getting hungry."

She pushed the dog off and got to her feet. After methodically brushing debris from her clothes and her short chestnut brown hair, she slung out a hip, giving him a faded denim side-eye.

"You just want to go check out that park. See if you can find that little girl."

"Or I'm hungry."

"You can go days without eating."

"Over a week actually but that doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"Dad!"

"What? You've been dreaming about that same park and that same little girl for how long now? Of course I want to check it out."

"Don't forget the blond woman."

"You can refresh my memory over dinner."

"Who's cooking?" She asked changing the subject.

He knew talking about the dream made her uncomfortable so he let it drop. "Race you for it?"

"Sure," she said with a mischievous smile. "On three ok?"

"Ok."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" she shouted flinging out her hand and taking off like a shot.

Kicking up another mini leaf tornado had given her such a good lead that Sam was completely confused when he found her standing motionless in the small clearing around the motor home. Confusion became concern when he realized that not only was she not moving forward she looked like she was about to turn and bolt backward. With several staccato hops, he was standing behind her.

"Lyssa?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice but didn't turn.

"Holy shit Sam when's the last time you had a haircut?"

X x X x X x X x X

It amazed her how, as soon as she spoke, his entire demeanor changed. He reminded her of a jungle cat dropping low to the ground, tensed and ready to attack. With one thickly muscled arm, he swept the girl behind him while simultaneously pulling a wicked looking knife from his hip with the other. He held it before him in a way that said he not only knew how to use it, he could make it sing like a virtuoso.

"Who are you?" His voice was harder than she'd expected.

This was not the same man she'd last seen fourteen years ago. Naïve. Still hanging on to that last shred of hope for normalcy.

"I know why you're here." She said putting her hands up palms forward.

"That's not what I asked." He moved slowly, circling with a fluid grace that belied his weak leg, until his back was to the motor home.

"Dad that's her. From my dream."

"Lyssa get inside."

"She looks just like you Sam."

"But dad…"

"Lyssa _now_."

"They have the same eyes you know. Like an old pair of jeans."

He shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

"Dad wait..."

"Goddammit! Get inside!"

Lyssa yelped. Hurt flashed across her face but she obeyed.

"Sam you've got to let her go."

As soon as the door closed, Sam rushed her, grabbing the front of her shirt and swinging her around sending her flying into the side of the motor home. She felt a jolt and a sting where she'd touched it. Before she could stand he was on her again lifting her by the throat and pressing her against the sidewall. Her back sizzled.

"One more time. Who are you?"

"It's… Ru-_by_." She managed to choke out.

He shook his head startled and dropped her. He backed up a few steps still wary. "I told you to..."

"I know, stay away from you. I wouldn't be here if this weren't important. Move on Sam. Let her go."

"Let who go?"

"Arika."

He took another step back stumbling like he'd been punched in the gut. "What did you say?"

"Arika is here in San Antonio."

"How do you know that?"

"Isn't that why you're here?"

"But how do _you_ know that?"

She took a deep breath, steeled herself. That was the million-dollar question and she could only hope that he wouldn't destroy her immediately after hearing the answer.

"Because… I brought her here."

"What? You! _You _brought her here." He didn't look wary anymore now he looked….well pissed. Really pissed. Beyond pissed. He hadn't moved but he was going to and when he did she doubted it would be to give her a hug.

"Wait," she said backing up, "Just hang on Cujo. I had to. I swore. I….." Before she could finish he was standing over her that wicked blade buried in her shoulder pegging her to the motor home. She pushed forward instinctively so she wouldn't be touching the warded paint job. It was tight. Like being caught between a rock and a hard place. She couldn't decide which he was.

"Keep talking." He leaned down until they were face to face and what she read in his eyes was an entire novel tentatively titled 'Homicide'.

"I was with Meg the night she broke into your house. I joined up with her entourage when I heard what she had planned for you. I thought maybe I could help. When she took the baby, I decided to follow her. Glad to see you got out alright."

He twisted the blade causing her to hiss. She pushed herself toward the hilt again.

"So you were there when she killed my family? Is their blood on your hands too?"

"I was there," she said quietly, "But I didn't touch them I swear."

"You didn't help either did you? DID YOU?"

"I….I couldn't. They made me swear."

"Who did?"

"Leeanna and Dean. That's how she took 'em down. They were fighting her flunkies and winning. Two serious hunters like them? She had to use the baby as leverage. I only got to talk to them once. They made me swear that if I had the chance I would take Arika and run. I got the chance when Meg was occupied making that….. message. She knew you'd do this you know. Leeanna. That's why she made me swear to bring the baby here. She said she wanted at least one of her children to have a normal life. I don't even think Dean knew she told me."

"Where is she?"

"Let her go Sam." Another ruthless twist.

"Stop. Doing that!" She pounded at his chest, shook her hand out. _Guess he's the rock._

"What are you going to do if I tell you?" She screamed inches from his face. "Going to go snatch an eight year old out of her warm soft bed and away from her family?"

"I'm her family dammit! Lyssa's her family."

"Not anymore. Those people? They love her. She's happy and shit Sam she's safe. I've spent the last eight years making sure of it. So you need to go. Whatever you think it is you're protecting her from you're wrong. You're the threat. You are so immersed in what you're doing it'll follow you here and it will eat her alive. She's not like you. Not like her." She jerked her head indicating the door Lyssa had disappeared through. "It's not right what you're doing with her either. Even _I_ know that." He yanked the knife from her shoulder none too gently.

"Ass." She pushed him. He staggered almost imperceptibly. _Definitely the rock. _

"I do what I have to."

"No, you do what you want to. You can dress it up in sugar and call it candy Sam but poison is still poison."

He looked up at the sky, back down at the blood stained knife then finally at her. "I think it's time for you to go."

She knew how to take a hint.


	9. Hard knocks

Sam parked just down the street from the sprawling ranch home. He sat and he watched. The family that inhabited the house was outside in the large, unfenced yard. They were barbecuing. From the amount of people gathered he assumed they were having some sort of get together. An hour passed. Two. Three. While he sat he replayed the days events inside his head.

He'd gone to HemisFair Park that morning, taking the dog with him. He'd played the part of loving dog daddy while watching the crowds from a spot not too far from the Tower of the Americas. He had waited occasionally tossing a tennis ball until his arm began to protest. The day wore on. Finally just as he was going to give up and go back to the motor home he'd seen them. A youth soccer team in black and purple uniforms just like Lyssa had described. Among them was a singularly pixie-ish child with white blond hair and pale blue eyes, the same shade as over washed denim. Like Lyssa's. Like his own. The sight of her sent a jolt through him. Nothing could have prepared him for that moment. Where Lyssa had taken most of her traits from him the dark hair, the height, shape of her face Arika had taken them from her mother. She was almost a carbon copy, small with wide-set eyes in a heart shaped face. Her too blond hair would probably stay that way. Her mother's had.

She turned laughing as she kicked the ball. It flew high in the air landing a few feet in front of him. He bent to pick it up. When he straightened she was standing there staring at him her hand held out.

"Thanks." She called over her shoulder after he'd handed her the ball. He'd gone to sit on a bench and watched them play for a while. Then…...

The passenger side door of his Jeep opened the noise rousing him from his reverie. He glanced over to see Ruby holding the door with a very thick towel.

"Whatever you're going to do you need to do it soon. I heard it through the wire that there's a Vamp named Alexander looking for you. Guess you offed his mate? Good job smokey. Well seems he's managed to track you here and he's en route. E.T.A. one hour. You should have left a week ago when I _told_ you to. I knew this would happen. Damn block-headed Winchesters." Then she was gone enveloped by the night.

When had it gotten so dark?

He took one last good look at the house that held his daughter, started the car and drove away. He shouldn't have stayed so long. He'd already made the decision to leave her when he'd watched her at the park, first with her friends, then with her…parents. They'd grown up damaged he and his brother. But Arika? She was whole. He'd done a lot of selfish things over the years yet he found he couldn't take that away from her. Even though leaving without her tore scabs from wounds he'd thought had become scars long ago.

X x X x X x X x X

As soon as he walked in the door Lyssa started asking questions. Since it was her dream that had led them there she was more interested in the outcome of that particular hunt than she had been in most of the others he'd left her in pursuit of. Unable to face her regarding what he felt was an irrevocable decision he lied to her about the girl's identity stating only that the threat against her had been taken care of. He could tell by the way she looked at him that she knew something wasn't right. She was too sharp by half sometimes. He was relieved when she didn't push just set to work helping him pull out what they would need to have handy in the case of a vamp attack.

Less than an hour later they were on their way out of San Antonio on one of the larger back roads. It was fairly dark and the road they were on wasn't as brightly light as it could have been. Sam peeked over at Lyssa while he waited for the light to change. She sat in the passenger seat legs curled beneath her. She had her nose in a book about occult symbols and their meanings.

A loud honk from the little red sports car sitting behind alerted him to the fact that the light had changed. He slowly eased the motor home into the intersection attempting to make a left turn without destroying anything on the narrower cross street. Halfway through an extremely bright light blazed directly into the passenger side window.

He wrenched his head around in time to see a Semi-truck barreling down on them. He slammed his foot onto the gas, yanking the stick, grinding gears and praying to god that the truck would hit them broadside behind the passenger nook.

It did ripping into the motor home like it had teeth. It pushed them a good 45 feet before crushing the motor home against the side wall of a warehouse.

Sam released the five point harness that tethered him to the driver's seat and slid over to Lyssa who hung limply by her own harness. He gently lifted her head. Her eyes fluttered open.

"What happened?" She asked sounding punch drunk.

He looked past her out the window. The red sports car was idling next to the trailer attached to the Semi that was currently residing in the motor homes small living room.

"Ruby's contacts are for shit that's what happened. How do you feel?" He turned his attention to getting her out of her harness.

"Little shaky and my leg hurts some." The car's engine revved. Headlights flickering. Sam finally got her out of the harness. He tried to lift her one arm behind her back the other wrapped around the tops of her legs. She cried out when he touched her right thigh. He pulled his hand slowly out from between her leg and the door. It came away glistening wetly. So much blood it wasn't red but black.

Gently. Oh so very gently he slipped his arm beneath her legs and lifted her settling her on the driver's seat. He heard the semi's door open and shut. Footsteps outside. No matter they still couldn't get in. They didn't want to anyway he figured. They wanted him to come out.

"Let me see it." He said reaching out to prod one of the overhead lights. Thankfully it came on. The sports cars engine revved again followed by several short high pitched blats. Lyssa shifted slightly, gasping when he pulled open the tear in her jeans exposing a gash at least as long as his forearm and probably an inch deep. Jagged and angry it seeped steadily staining everything crimson.

Something inside him snapped then and if it had made a sound it would have echoed across the world like a thunderclap before the perfect storm. He had the strange sensation of time slowing that accompanied an adrenaline dump.

He pulled off his belt and fastened it high up on her thigh tightening it as much as he could without doing any further damage then he pulled off his shirt and stuffed it into the hole in her pants.

He reached behind the seat and pulled his kukri machete out of the bag of vamp essentials. He also pulled out and handed her a compact crossbow with four bolts clipped to either side each one soaked in dead man's blood.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to at that point. She knew her part and she'd play it. He stood and kicked the passenger side window demolishing it. He grabbed the bar over the door and swung himself out feet first landing in a crouch one hand on the ground.

Both the driver's side and passenger side doors of the car opened. He didn't know if it was Alexander or Meg or any number of other beings both supernatural and non he'd pissed off at some point. He also didn't care. What he did know was this. Whoever stepped out of that car would pay tenfold for every drop of blood his daughter shed.


	10. Let the bodies hit the floor

Lyssa reached out and killed the interior light. She balanced the crossbow on the steering wheel, adjusted the sights loaded a bloodstained bolt. Pain radiated from her leg, more intense than any she'd ever felt. The rusty, salty perfume of her own blood forced its way up her nose. Her throat convulsed, she choked back an involuntary heave. The part of her that remembered she was still a child wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The rest of her was already operating on training so deeply ingrained it'd become instinct. She concentrated on the feel of the bow in her hands using it to distance herself from the pain. _Act now react later._

She waited patiently, still as a stone, lining up her shot with the weak spot on the windshield. The spot where it had already started to buckle. Her breath flowed in a slow, rhythmic cadence. Butterflies in her belly. This wasn't a game. The crossbow wasn't a paintball gun. If she missed…

She couldn't see her dad but judging by the direction the vamp from the Semi was skulking in she had a pretty good idea where he was. The vampire crossed in front of the motor home. He was so intent on trying to catch her father from behind that he paid her no attention.

_Wait for it. Wait… for it. Wait…_

The windshield exploded ….

X x X x X x X x X

Two figures emerged from the darkness that lay behind the headlights. Sam recognized Alexander but the blond man with the beetle black eyes was a stranger.

"Sam Winchester. It's been too long. I was just telling David here how long it's been and what happens? I run into you. How _ironic_." His voice was silk laced with the subtle hint of an accent centuries old.

He sniffed the air like a dog, grinned exposing long yellow fangs. "Smells like, mmmmm, you brought me a snack. Who's bleeding to death in that thing behind you Sam?"

Sam, still crouched, looked up from under knitted brows. One hand on the hard, uneven ground the other extended behind him. The machete's business end saluted the sky.

"Drop the knife." The command wrapped itself around him trying to invade his mind. The small red Celtic cross tattooed on his chest burned turning the vampire's mesmerizing voice away.

Most of the legends about vampires are false but a few are based in fact. They aren't all capable of influencing people. Just the old ones like Alexander.

"I said drop the knife."

Sam smiled at the look of bewilderment on Alexander's face.

"I'll get that knife and I'll use it to carve whoever it is you're protecting like a Thanksgiving turkey."

One small worm of doubt crept into Sam's belly. He pictured Lyssa bleeding out in the R.V. Jesus if he…..

He got the distinct uncomfortable feeling of eyes at his back. He concentrated on the weight of the massive Kukri blade in his hand using it to distance himself from his fear. _Act now react later._ He thrust the world away giving over to the hunter.

The sound of shattering glass was less surprising than it was expected. _One down._

Sam launched himself off the ground, taking into account the bits of gravel littering the blacktop, adjusted his body. He charged Alexander but the demon jumped in his way. He closed the distance between them quickly. At the last second he leapt feet fist planting both of his boots in the demons chest. He pushed off and flipped to land once again on his feet. The demon flew backward and landed with such force on the hood of the little car the windshield spider webbed.

Sam turned to Alexander but found he was no longer standing next to the car. Confused he spun searching the parking lot.

The demon stood causing the car's ruined hood to crackle and groan. The noise grabbed Sam's attention. He dropped to the ground. Felt the air above him move. The demon sailed over him landing hard then rolling. He sprang to his feet. Sam mirrored him.

A flash from the corner of his eye. Alexander crooning softly through the R.V.'s broken side window. Sam's heart skipped a beat.

Then he was forced to move. He swung the machete around felt the resistance as it cut through flesh and grated against bone. The demon lashed out, clipped his shoulder. He had to twist to keep his balance landing awkwardly on the gravel and jarring his bad leg. He sucked in a breath but didn't stop. He attacked again ducking under one massive fist and thrusting upward with the machete aiming for the demons midsection.

He'd swear he heard that blade calling for blood as it whistled through the air. Then it was skating across bone again deflected by the demons meaty forearm. He took a glancing blow to the side of his head.

He tried to catch a glimpse of the R.V. but the demon kept him busy. Leveling blows with the speed of a martial artist.

Sam swept out a leg took the demon down hard. Threw a glance at the R.V.. Lyssa's pale face floated into view. She looked dazed.

"NO!" Distracted he took a strike to the face that sent him reeling. His turn to bounce off the hood of the car.

Fear and fury burned a hole in him. Instead of stealing his ability to think coolly they focused him further. This had already gone on too long.

The demon stood behind him. Laughed. "She sure does have a pretty mouth." Laughed again.

Sam looked down at his empty hands.

"Looking for this?" Another laugh short and sharp like a dart to his cerebral cortex.

He turned. The demon started. Uncertainty flickered in its eyes. Then it rushed Sam the machete held out in front of it like a sword.

Sam sidestepped it easily. He snatched another peek at the R.V. Lyssa was standing, the door open, her hands behind her back on the passenger side step.

The demon rounded on him, swung the knife in an arc.

Sam caught the demons hand and grabbed for the knife's handle. His hand kissed the blade then a slick scrabble and he had it. His hands weren't empty anymore.

He pushed the demon away swung the knife. Low and hard. This time it found its mark sinking deep into the demons gut. He twisted and yanked upward tearing a hole in the poor shit David was riding. God help him he didn't care. All he could think about was Lyssa.

He hacked into the demons neck while it was occupied with the mess trying to escape its' stolen body. It fell, black smoke roiled from its mouth.

Sam rounded on the R.V. "Leave her alone Alex."

The once comfortable night air was frigid against his blood drenched body. He shivered. His breath steamed in ragged puffs.

"Like you left my Tanya?" Alex asked turning to face him.

"She'd eaten half a kindergarten class Alex. There were witnesses."

"She always did have a soft spot for children," the vampire said shaking his head sadly. "Did I say soft spot? I meant sweet tooth. This one here smells sweet."

"Believe me she's anything but. Why don't you come over here huh? Let's settle this like gentlemen." Sam stopped ten feet from Alex. He bent and placed the knife on the ground. The vampire smiled. Lyssa stood on the step in a stupor.

"Stay here sweetmeat. I'll be back in a second." He said over his shoulder. He'd only taken a few light steps when….

X x X x X x X x X

…..She pulled the trigger and immediately loaded another bolt. The vampire pivoted slowly, stared down at the crossbow bolt sticking out of the left side of his chest. The look he gave her was one part anger one part disbelief.

Holding the crossbow one handed in front of her she pulled the neck of her shirt down so he could see the small red cross tattooed on her shoulder.

He growled, lunged for her.

She pulled the trigger again.

He dropped. The bright blue fletching was the only visible portion of the bolt buried deep in his forehead.

"Head means dead." She whispered.

Everything went quiet. She watched from miles away as her dad cut off the vampires head. From somewhere behind her the dog started to whine. She swayed. He walked to the front of the R.V. she tried not to hear the sick keening noise the other vampire made. Then her dad was there again. The stench of blood was so thick it felt like it was coating the back of her tongue. Everything started to swim.

"Daddy?" She said. _Sound like a damn baby._

He looked up. Everything was fuzzy.

"Lys?"

"I don't feel so…..


	11. Baby don't go

**A/N: **Ok a very special shout out goes to IHeartSam7 and SciFiDiva. *waves* Thanks so much guys! Without their help I think I'd still be stuck worrying about the last chapter. I know this one's been a little while in coming. The holidays really threw me. So it's a little slower but I think it needs to be. Thanks for coming back if you're a return reader and thanks for stopping by if you're a new one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except an itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini. Oh and all "original" characters. But if I did….

X x X x X x X x X

"Lyssa?"

Her eyes rolled up into her head. She pitched forward.

"Lyssa!" He was moving before he even realized it catching her before she hit the ground. The right leg of her jeans was soaked. A thick puddle oozed on the step where she'd been standing. Wisps of hair curled around her temples dark and sticky with sweat making her look even paler in the fluorescent light. He tapped her face. No response.

"Hey." He shook her. Again nothing. He pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, held his breath. Pulse was there. Weak but steady. His breath came out in a rush_. _

_Hopsital. Gotta get to a hospital._

He stood, ran around to the back of the R.V. hoping beyond hope that his Jeep was still drivable. He skidded to a halt, panic seizing him, when he saw the busted hitch.

_No no no no._

He looked over his shoulder at the little red car that continued to purr even with its hood crushed in.

X x X x X x X x X

Johnny O'Brien sat behind the desk at the E.R. nurses station. The night was quiet. Most nights were. The two other nurses on shift with him were already making rounds.

Johnny loved the quiet. He let it wash over him as he stared at the wall daydreaming. He jumped when he heard the emergency room doors slam open.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

He was out of the chair and on his feet in a heartbeat. He slammed his hand on the all-call button as he rounded the desk out into the hall.

Johnny made it through the door just in time to see the guy fall to his knees. He looked like he'd been put through the wringer but the girl he was holding, pale and disturbingly limp, really worried him. Since he was the only one up front when the guy came in he was the first to reach him.

He dropped down on one knee so he'd be eye to eye with the guy who was rocking back and forth. _Shit._ _Must be his kid._

He reached out. "Can I take a look?"

The guy gazed at him eyes unfocused. He thought maybe the guy wasn't going to let her go. The grief in those eyes made Johnny's throat constrict in sympathy. Behind him came the sound of a gurney crashing through the doors, shoes slapping on the linoleum.

"Let me help you." He said quietly. The guy nodded. Johnny swept the girl up and onto the gurney. The resident on call pressed his fingertips to her neck.

"What happened?" Doc Munro asked.

"Car accident." The guy replied but Johnny could see by his demeanor there was something else.

"Got a pulse. Let's go people!"

The guy jumped up to follow. Johnny put a hand on his chest. He was trembling like he'd been juiced but he was crashing fast.

"I have to go with her."

"Doc Munro's got her she'll be fine."

"I go where she goes." The guy tried to push past him. He was pretty big and the way he was standing made Johnny think he was used to throwing his weight around. Thing was Johnny's no midget himself. That was why they liked him on the night shift. He gently but firmly grabbed the guys arm.

"You're a mess. You need to be looked at man." The guy started posturing up, like maybe he wanted to throw a punch. Johnny prayed the guy wouldn't hit him. He already looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a brick wall and Johnny didn't want to have to add to that.

Then like he'd altogether had enough he dropped his shoulders. In a calm, quiet voice he spoke never taking his eyes from Johnny's.

"Look uh…,"

"Johnny." He supplied.

"Johnny. I'm Sam. Please understand. That little girl is all I have in the world and I mean that in the most absolute of terms. If something happens to her it won't matter what's wrong with me. When I'm sure she's fine you can poke me and prod me as much as you want. So I'm going and I'm hoping maybe you'll help me because I am bone tired and I really don't feel like fighting any more tonight."

Johnny searched the guys face. He looked exhausted, scared, and desperate. Johnny knew desperate. He let Sam's arm go.

"I'm probably going to get in big trouble for this but what the hell. Only live once right? Come on."

He lead the guy back through the emergency room proper then through a set of swinging doors to where the operating rooms were located. He took the guy into the O.R. adjoining the one his kid was in, showed him the door with the large plate glass window that separated them.

"You can look through here. Don't go in there though man. Seriously. Doc Munro's the best. He'll pull her through."

"Thank you."

"Yeah. Ok. I'm going to come looking for you later. Make sure you get cleaned up." He said but the guy wasn't listening anymore. He left shutting the door behind him.

X x X x X x X x X

Sam sat vigil over the quiet, still form on the hospital bed. He sat legs spread, elbows and knees mirrored angles, chin resting on fisted hands. At first glance it would seem that he was simply lost in thought. However if someone passing by had stopped and looked closer they might have noticed the raw tension vibrating through his entire frame. Jaw locked tight, knuckles bleached, the muscles in his forearms and biceps bunched to the point that they strained the fabric of his hospital shirt.

He sat and he stared as the last thing in the world that tethered him to some semblance of life lay broken on the bed. He wasn't used to feeling helpless anymore. It sat badly in his stomach and the constant beep, beep, beep of the monitors, the insistent hiss of the oxygen, though reassuring, was slowly driving him insane.

She wasn't comatose, they told him, just very deeply asleep. He closed his eyes when they started to burn. It had been such a long time since he'd cried. Seemed like the past couple days it was all he'd done.

He stirred, stitches tugged. He eyed the enormous bandage on Lyssa's right leg. Her first scar and it was going to be a nasty one. The official stitch count was 56. Damn thing ran from her knee almost to her hip.

He remembered distinctly the last time Lyssa had been in the hospital, twelve years ago, when she was born. He remembered staring at her through a window, waiting to be let into the little nursery. His brother had been there. Dean had been surprisingly supportive despite the fact that he felt Sam and Leeanna were making an epic mistake.

"World's going to hell in a hand basket," Dean used to say. "Why bring another life into this mess?"

That day however he'd been quiet, contemplative almost. They'd stood there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the tiny, pink covered bundle that was Lyssa. Finally Dean had shrugged and asked, "Well, how do you feel?"

"Truthfully? I'm scared shitless." He had answered. The fear he'd felt then was nothing compared to what he felt now.

Heart in his throat he whispered "Lyssa? Lyssa baby it's time to wake up." His voice came out thick and cracked. He didn't expect to get a response. He hadn't in over 48 hours.

He leaned forward, put his elbows on the bed and gently lifted her hand rubbing the back with his thumb willing her to wake up.

He could shoot the wings off a fly, could kill a man with his bare hands. He could even exorcise demons with his mind but he couldn't fight this. This unknown thing.

And the stasis was becoming a damn near unendurable torture. Feeling like he did in the heat of a hunt, like he had to do something, like if he didn't his heart might stop beating.

A knock on the door jarred him from his introspection. He reached instinctively for a weapon that wasn't there. Slowly he turned toward the door.

"Oh jeez sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I tried calling your name but you didn't answer." A petite brunette stepped into the room. She was holding a volunteer pass and a magazine.

"Mr. Winchester?"

He nodded.

"Hi. Well, okay so I'm Sandy Tucker and this is my daughter Emma we volunteer here at the hospital as sit-ins. Basically we come in and sit with patients so that their family members can have a little break. I usually work here in peeds so if you want to check me out you can call and ask. The ladies at the nurse's station said you haven't eaten or slept for a while. If you want I could sit for you. Long enough for a trip to the caff anyway. I know how hard this must be. I had to do it once with Emma. Oh jeez here I'm just rambling again. Bad habit. Runs in the family." She laughed. Shuffled her feet.

Over the years he'd to learned to read people. This woman felt safe. Still he would have very politely declined if not for the elfin child grasping her hand, snowy blond hair plaited neatly down her back.

The girl smiled at him. Not shy, no, with a sweet, tiny smirk like she knew a secret.

"You were at the park the other day."

"Yes I was." He said one eyebrow cocked.

She nodded turning serious. "You caught my ball."

"So I did."

"I'll talk to her for you. Sometimes it helps you know."

He smiled but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. "I had heard that."

Emma let go of her mother's hand and walked around to the other side of the bed.

"I'm not sure I want to leave yet but I wouldn't mind some company." He gestured at Sandy to pull up the other chair. "I can't stay turned for too long. It's pulling my stitches."

She pulled it even with his so he could relax.

"So how old is Emma." He asked even though he already knew the answer.

"She's eight but her birthday's coming up."

Emma leaned in close to Lyssa's ear and Sam could hear her whispering.

"Does she come with you often to sit in?"

"Sometimes. She was really insistent today though. It was actually kind of weird. I mean she passed on a movie to come. She kept saying we were late over and over in the car…no wait…that's not right. She said we were going to be _too_ late but we're volunteers so we don't have set schedules."

"Huh. She do stuff like that often?"

"Well, you know kids. They all do weird stuff now and again." She fidgeted, dropped her gaze. In the background Emma continued to whisper.

Emma glanced up at him. Something inside him burned and for a moment he was lost in those pale blue eyes. She didn't blink. His own eyes begin to water and he realized neither had he.

"Emma. It's not polite to stare." Her mother admonished in a shaky voice.

He crashed back into himself and it was all suddenly too much. He stood abruptly knocking his chair over and startling Sandy in the process.

"Are you ok? Em. Back up a little."

"No! No, she's fine. I… I just. I think I'll take you up on that trip to the cafeteria if you still don't mind staying that is."

She looked relieved. "I don't mind at all. We'll take good care of her for you. Take as long as you need Mr. Winchester."

He flashed another weak smile. "Sam. You can call me Sam and thanks. Really."

He turned, had to force himself not to run from the room.

X x X x X x X x X

It was dark. So dark where she was. She had no real concept of time but she knew she'd been here awhile. She could hear her dad crying sometimes. Soft little sobs. He talked to her but she couldn't answer. Not out loud, she wanted to but something was stopping her.

Part of her liked it here in the quiet dark. It was safe and she didn't have to be scared. Didn't have to worry about whether or not her dad was coming home.

But the other part really wanted to reach out and tell him she was ok. She wasn't going anywhere. He didn't have to cry like his heart was breaking.

She tried to come out. But the darkness was heavy and wouldn't budge.

She was beginning to get worried. Then she heard a new voice, this one high pitched and soothing. A child's voice. With it came the light.

"Lyssa." It whispered. Colors pierced the dark and she felt like she was floating. Floating so high.

Then the dark was pulling at her again. Dragging her down. She started to fight, reaching for the light.

"Come out. It's time for you to come out."

"Who are you?" A soft giggle. More light. More rainbows chasing the dark away. Slicing through it till it let her go.

"Come on out and see. Come on. Come on." The voice urged.

She pushed up, up. Harder, faster.

"You can do it. Your daddy's real worried. Wake up!"

Her eyelids fluttered open. It took her a minute to focus. She looked around the room.

Next to the bed, on the right, was a woman. Her mouth a perfect little "O". On the left was the girl from her dreams.

"Nurse! Nurse!" The woman yelled. But all her attention was focused for the time being on the girl next to her.

"How did you know my name?" Lyssa whispered. Or did she? She didn't remember opening her mouth. The girl answered her anyway.

"I know lots of things."

X x X x X x X x X

After making his way to the men's room and scrubbing his face at the sink Sam found himself sitting by a window in the tiny waiting room at the end of the hall. He sipped bitter, overheated coffee from a Styrofoam cup.

Once his pulse had stopped racing and he'd gotten his breathing under control he followed the hall back to Lyssa's room.

If the scene that had made him leave had caused his heart to speed up what greeted him on his return was enough to give him a full on heart attack. There were doctors and nurses everywhere. Monitors screeched, flat red lines streamed across black screens.

_God no._

He couldn't see past the throng of bodies pressed together around the bed. Fear lanced through him and he pushed into them expecting the worst.

Relief tore a breath from him when he saw Lyssa sitting upright on the bed. She looked around frantically the oxygen hose that had been in her nose dangling forgotten from one ear. The wires leading to the barrage of machines by the side of the bed were scattered in shreds and she'd yanked out her I.V.. It poured fluid on the pale blue tile.

Several nurses were trying to get her to lie back down. He gently but firmly moved them out of his way.

"Dad?" she croaked.

He reached down and scooped her up into his arms. She buried her head against his chest.

"Daddy?" She whispered her breath dampening his shirt.

"Yes sweetheart?" He replied his voice thick.

"Get me out of here."

"What? Right now?"

She looked up at him pleading with her eyes. "Right now."

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.

"Ok baby." That was it. No thought just action. Action and instinct. He strode past the group of people surrounding the bed.

"Hey!"

Someone grabbed him.

"Where are you going? You can't just leave."

He shook the hand off.

"Somebody stop him. Call secur—"

He stopped and stared them down one at a time. "Stop me? Go ahead and try."


	12. Run, Run, Run

**A/N: **I want to apologize for the extended delay concerning this and my other fic "When Darkness Turns to Light" I know I was updating like every few days in the beginning. I've got quite a few things going now so that sort of slowed me down. I also have a few chapter fics in the wings with which I refuse to do anything other than keep them fresh in my mind till I finish the ones on my plate. Thanks so much to those of you who've stuck around this long! I'm dedicating this chapter to you! *hugs*

X x X x X x X x X

He waited a count of ten, daring them to try. Five peeved faces looked back but there were no takers. There never was when he was dealing with people. He looked away satisfied that he'd have at least a few minutes before he'd actually have to run. They'd wait till he left the room to call security.

He stepped into the hallway, jogged toward the bank of elevators on his far left.

Lyssa clutched his shoulders trying to see behind them. "Hurry."

"They coming?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"Good. Maybe we'll get out of here clean after all."

She pulled herself higher, rested her chin on his shoulder. "Go faster."

"I thought you said they weren't coming."

"It's not them I'm worried about."

"Who then?"

"Dunno. Just a feeling. Bad. We can't be here anymore."

_Damn._

X x X x X x X x X

Johnny wasn't sure the guy would come back his way but he waited regardless. He had a feeling the guy needed help and he'd learned long ago to trust his feelings.

Two days ago the kid had been in hemorrhagic shock. She'd taken three pints of blood to stabilize. She'd been unconscious and unresponsive till what five, ten minutes ago. Then all of a sudden the guy's snatching her up and flying out the door. There's something going on there. Something beyond the obvious. So he waited.

The guy didn't disappoint came right through the swinging doors nearly running him down.

Johnny didn't move.

The guy tried to side step him. He mirrored the motion. The guy puffed up. Tension rolled off him in waves.

"Move." He said through clenched teeth.

"What are you doing man?"

"I'm leaving. Please get out of my way."

"Kid don't look too good. You sure you know what you're getting into?" For the second time that week he was in this guys face. He kept looking for signs that the guy was unbalanced but he didn't see any.

"What do you think?"

Johnny considered him head tilted. "I think anybody who's sewn himself up as many times as you have can't be too stupid."

The guy got all red-faced, like he'd been caught up. Shuffled his feet. Some of the tension drained from his posture.

"Noticed that did you?"

"What? That you've got more scars than a leopard has spots? Hard to miss. Especially the one you got from that 12 gauge. Nasty bitch that. One on your face though I don't know that one and I _know_ scars."

The guy raised an eyebrow.

Johnny shrugged. "I wasn't always a nurse." He moved to the side offered the small duffel he'd packed in case the guy came his way. The guy just stared at it unsure.

"What's this?"

"Gauze, painkillers, antibiotics oral and topical, tape, and not just for her either hear? Gonna lose that hand you mess around with it. You look to me like a guy needs both his hands. Also, couple of ham sandwiches, water, blanket. Just, and I am beggin' ya here, tell me I'm not making the mistake of a lifetime letting you walk."

The guy reached out and took the bag. "Believe me the sooner we're gone the better."

Johnny'd never seen someone get so serious so fast. He nodded. "Alright then. They're going to figure out any minute that I didn't actually see you by the front office so get out of here. There's a set of keys and an address in the side pocket of that duffle. Place of mine up round Saddle Creek. Just a cabin but it'll do ya till she can walk."

"Hey that's... you don't have to…"

"Yeah yeah just go already."

The guy made it about five steps before he turned to ask: "Why are you helping me?"

Johnny pulled up his right shirtsleeve to reveal a tattoo. The words "Semper Fidelis" in elegant script wrapped around the eagle, the earth and the anchor. "I know a brother when I see one."

The guy shook his head. "I'm not military."

"Maybe you weren't in the corps but a soldier's a soldier. Now go on!"

He nodded. The doors whooshed closed behind him.

Yeah Johnny knew scars. Even the ones that ran deeper than skin.

He also knew the way the guys' eyes were always searching out doorways and windows. How he never sat with his back to one. Word for that is hunted. He just hoped whatever the guy was running from didn't catch up any time soon.

X x X x X x X x X

In the parking lot, Sam was more than surprised to see that the little red car he'd driven to the hospital was gone. In its place, a note taped to the steering wheel, was his Jeep. Even filthy and slightly scratched it was a sight for sore eyes. He settled Lyssa into the passenger seat, covering her in the white thermal blanket he'd found in the duffel then jumped in behind the wheel. He snatched the note up, scanned it. It was a receipt.

Ruby's Hunting Clean-Up Service

"You fuck it up.

I'll clean it up."

Vampire corpse removal and incineration-$10,000

Occult vehicle tow-$500

Gun tote, fire box and equipment transfer-$150

Total: $10,650

I'll waive the fees if you get the hell out of Dodge.

Ruby.

"Don't have to tell me twice. Ready Lys?" No answer. He looked over to find her eyes closed. Panicked he shook her. "Lyssa!"

"What?" She mumbled opening her left eye and squinting at him. "Why are we still here?"

"We're not, you're dreaming. Go back to sleep just…..not too deep ok?" He offered a lopsided grin, which she returned one eye still closed tight.

"Let's get the hell out of Dodge." She whispered as she drifted back off.

Her inadvertent repetition of the phrase left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

X x X x X x X x X

She was on a playground. The sun was shining, the air was infused with a feeling of comfort and security that she hadn't felt in a long time. _Not since,_….she pushed the thought away not willing to spoil the atmosphere. She knew she was dreaming. She had to be. She was outside and she couldn't see her dad so….dreaming. But it was such a nice dream. Not like the one in the hospital. Idly she turned the merry go round. Pushed the swings.

Something shifted.

"Who's there?" She called out looking around. She was only mildly surprised when the little girl from the hospital stepped out from behind a tree. Something in the back of her mind wiggled when she looked at the girl. Like she'd forgotten something. Something very important. "Emma?"

"You left so fast I didn't get a chance to say I was sorry." Emma said looking down and digging the toe of her left shoe into the soft earth at the base of the tree.

"What are you sorry for?" The feeling wouldn't go away. It intensified. _What is it?_

"It's my fault you go hurt."

"How's that? We only just met." _Didn't we? _Lyssa sat on one of the swings facing Emma, patted the seat of the one next to her. Maybe it was her eyes.

Emma hopped over and sat.

"If I hadn't sent you those pictures you wouldn't have come then the blond lady wouldn't have called those bad guys to chase you away and you wouldn't have gotten hurt. I don't know why she's so scared of you guys. You don't seem scary to me."

"Ok wait a minute, you _sent_ the dreams?" Lyssa turned.

Emma nodded.

"I'm sorry. It's just you guys were so worried about me. I felt it for a long time. Especially your daddy. He's very sad isn't he?"

"Yeah, sometimes." _Yeah it's her eyes._ _They look just like…_.where had she seen them?

"I tried to send him pictures first but he's got a very big lock on _his_ door. Closed up tight. Like a clam."

"Or Fort Knox." Lyssa said under her breath.

"Not you though. So I sent the pictures to you. Me and the blond lady that watches over me. So you would know I was safe." Emma dropped her voice as though there were someone else there to hear. "She thinks I don't know about her. Sometimes it's hard not to know. Things just pop into my head. I guess I'm better at getting the pictures than sending them."

"That's got to get annoying." _Her_ _**eyes**_.

"Yeah. Sometimes they're scary. The things I see. I can't talk about them to mama though. She gets really weirded out."

"I—" She was cut off by a third voice. This one disembodied.

"Lyssa?"

She tried to ignore it. _Just a little longer._

"Your daddy's getting worried again."

"I know. He's always worried."

"You should go."

_Almost got it._

She could feel him nudging her. "Hang _on._"

"Lyssa!"

"I know you."

The gentle nudges fast became frightened shakes.

"Your _eyes_." Lyssa felt everything shift. _Dad's eyes._

Scenery started to dissipate like smoke on the breeze. Emma waved then cupped her hands around her mouth. "Oh and don't worry about Moon. Momma says we can keep her till you come back."

"Arika?"

Emma smiled.

Light.

Morning.

The Jeep.

Her father's face.

Her sister's eyes.

X x X x X x X x X

Her father carried her into the cabin. It was very rustic, a man's place, but cozy. There was a large front room with a fireplace. Off from that was a kitchen a small dining room and a hall.

She couldn't quite see from where he set her on the couch but she figured the bedrooms must be down that hall. Hopefully there was an indoor bathroom down there too.

"I'll be right back with your stuff so you can change if you want."

She nodded looking around. The furniture was mostly wood and what wasn't wood was an earth or wood tone. Surprisingly the living room boasted a decent sized t.v.. Wires snaked up the wall behind it disappearing into a hole in the ceiling. Satelite.

She battled herself over whether or not to tell her dad about the dream she'd had in the car. She thought maybe he knew already. That maybe this was the thing he didn't tell her the other day.

He came back in his arms loaded with their things. "Not too bad huh?" he said as though nothing was wrong. As though things weren't different. She wasn't different. But she was and they were and she loved him all the more for trying at least to make it ok.

"No. Not too bad. Looks like there's Satelite. You can watch football."

He laughed. "Yeah and you can watch Tanya Lee: Teen Queen."

That made them both laugh. Finally the feeling of wrongness she'd been carting around began to lift.

After a thrown together meal of dried goods and canned vegetables Sam had pulled out his chalking kit. Lyssa, ensconced this time in the overstuffed recliner to the left of the fireplace, held a book she wasn't reading. She watched him cover the walls and floors with arcane symbols.

He wiped his hands on his pants leaving streaks on the dark blue material. He turned and smiled at her, his face blotched, the scar on his left cheek standing out in livid relief against the chalk dust that covered his face and hair. She hadn't seen him so happy in a long while. It made her a little sad because it wouldn't last. It never did.

Later, showered and clothed in fresh pajamas her dad dropped onto the couch, turned on the T.V.. She was too wasted to care when he flipped through the channels mindlessly. Didn't care when he sat the controller down to wander into the kitchen in search of some sort of snack leaving the T.V. tuned in to a local news station.

As she dozed the news anchors voice lost coherence becoming a soft buzz. The sound of shattering glass yanked her back into the world. Her father stood in front of the T.V. a bowl lay on the floor at his feet, popcorn and what used to be a glass of soda. On the screen was a redheaded reporter standing in front of a large brick home. He held a microphone emblazoned with the number signature of the station they were watching. Behind him men in uniforms and cars complete with flashing lights made for a chaotic tableau that only seemed to worsen when the he started to speak.

"This is Terry Downing I've just arrived on scene where a local man who was mauled to death by an enormous black dog earlier today has been identified as police Captain Ronald Tucker. Tucker's wife and daughter were seen getting into a car with an unidentified blond woman minutes before the attack. Police have been unable to locate Sandy Tucker or her daughter Emma. Tucker allegedly unloaded several rounds from a semi-automatic handgun into the animal before it bolted off into the woods behind his home. We have a few seconds of the attack caught by a neighbor on his cell phone." Terry's face was replaced by grainy footage showing the back end of what looked like a black Labrador on steroids shaking and growling. Several gunshots sounded out and the thing turned looking straight at the camera, eyes red as blood, before bolting off to the left. Terry returned his face slightly green.

"Animal control representatives believe the animal is a wolf of some kind and may possibly be ill. Civilians are advised to stay away from it if sighted and call animal control or 911 immediately. This is Terry Downing for channel 14 back to you Paula."

"Dammit!" Her dad sagged going to his knees in slow motion. He put his head in his hands.

"Thank you Terry. In other news, Jackson Memorial Hospital was evacuated today after an explosion destroyed its' emergency room. Fire quickly spread throughout the rest of the hospital. There are a confirmed thirteen deaths and another twenty-seven still unaccounted for. A total of 63 injured have been remanded to Howard Medical Center ten miles away. There were a total of seven nurses and four doctors staffing the E.R. when the explosion hit. Authorities are still investigating what caused it and whether or not it could have been prevented. More on this story and others when we return from break." The aerial view of the hospital ringed by firefighters trying to control the massive blaze filled the screen near to bursting.

Lyssa wondered where her room had been in relation to the flames that blanketed the building. Dead center would be her guess.

The sound her dad made pulled her attention away from the screen. It was less a scream than a growl. She slid from the chair and scooted on her butt to where he knelt on the floor. She reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder flinching when he did.

He turned to her and she heard what he didn't say.

_I failed again._

"Not your fault daddy."

_It's always my fault. All the way back to the beginning._

"You weren't even there."

_I should have been._

"You can't save everyone." She whispered.

He looked like he wanted to argue but he kept silent. He reached up and took hold of her hand giving it a solid squeeze before lifting her and carrying her down the hall to her room. She knew what would happen next.

He'd make sure she was comfortable, smile and say goodnight then gently close the door. He'd dig deep down to the bottom of his big camouflage duffel pull out the bottle of Johnny Walker Red he thought she didn't know about and drink himself into a fury. Then he'd walk or stumble, depending on how much was in the bottle, to a distance he thought was far enough away that she wouldn't hear him crack. He never did go far enough. Mostly he'd just scream. Sometimes he'd break things. Once he'd taken his gun. That night she'd been too terrified to sleep until she'd heard him blunder through the door of the R.V. and fall onto the couch.

He laid her on the bed pulling the blanket up like he used to when she was little.

"Dad. Please." She said laying her hand on his. _Not the gun Dad please. Not tonight_

"Everything's going to be fine. Ok?"

"Sure Dad."

"Good night sweetheart."

"Good night." She whispered. She hated the fact that her eyes were getting heavy. Her body betraying her with its' weakness. She felt a touch feather light on her hair. Then darkness took the room.

The last things she heard were his footsteps like thunderclaps across the hall and the distant but distinct sound of a large military grade zipper.

Nope. It never lasts.


End file.
